


Dazed

by fuzipenguin



Series: Crossing Lines [4]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, Non-Consensual, Other, Spark Sex, Sticky Sex, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2018-01-14 10:59:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1263835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sunstreaker has a point to make and he'll do anything to get it across; Sideswipe's POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dazed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dracoqueen22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/gifts).



> Occurs ~2 days after Ratchet's conversation with Sideswipe in the brig in Went Too Far

                 Before the door of their berthroom even finishes closing, Sunstreaker has grabbed Sideswipe and flung him against the nearest wall.

                “Uh… what you doin’?” Sideswipe ventures, trying to get his arms beneath him. "You miss me that much?” he asks, trying to look over his shoulder with a coy glance.

                He never gets the chance. Instead, Sunstreaker slams Sideswipe’s head flush against the wall, his faceplates getting uncomfortably squished in the process.

                Well, ow. Not that either he or Sunstreaker are known for gentleness in the berth; in fact, they’ve interfaced up against this very wall (loudly and quite violently) in the past more times than Sideswipe can count. But there’s usually a warning of some kind: the trickle of lust along the bond, a heated glance, the brush of a hand.

                As they had walked to their room after being discharged from the brig, Sunstreaker had been silent and brooding. More so than usual. Sunstreaker’s end of their link had been murky, and he definitely hadn’t been giving Sideswipe any interested glances. Instead, Sunstreaker had looked as if he wanted to fall onto their berth and glare at the ceiling for the next few hours, not frag Sideswipe through the wall.

                “Sunny?” Sideswipe asks, when he doesn’t get an answer the first time. He tries again to push himself off the wall, but his brother wordlessly rumbles a warning, reaching around to yank Sideswipe’s arms up behind his back.

                He’s quick about it, and Sideswipe isn’t prepared for the kick that spreads his legs apart either. He’s starting to feel a lot less amused then when this all first started. Especially when a paint-scraping screech echoes in his audials as Sunstreaker shoves forward, his full weight forcing Sideswipe completely against the wall.

                Oh. So, Sunstreaker’s serious then. Sideswipe blinks wide optics at the surface mere centimeters from his nasal ridge.

                “Sunstreaker…” Sideswipe says carefully, because his twin only tolerates the nickname on good days. On bad days, sometimes it’s enough to start a tiff. Or elevate an argument into a full blown brawl.

                “Shut up!” Sunstreaker snarls. He tugs Sideswipe’s arms up even further, and Sideswipe has to go on tiptoe at the warning ache in his shoulders.

                “Did you think this wasn’t coming?” Sunstreaker continues, transferring both of Sideswipe’s wrists to one hand.

                It’s an opportunity, and Sideswipe almost takes it. But he decides to let this play out a little more first. He knows Sunstreaker would never truly hurt him, and he’s intensely curious as to what’s going through Sunstreaker’s helm right now.

                “Well, I don’t really know what _this_ is,” Sideswipe replies honestly.

                He wracks his processor for anything that he could have done recently to piss his brother off. There isn’t a whole lot, considering they’d been in separate brig cells for the past two days. And it had been at Sunstreaker’s urging that they had gone after DragStrip.

                Sunstreaker’s engine revs angrily, its vibrations pulsating through Sideswipe’s backplates. Sideswipe can’t help the perverse little thrill that shoots up his spinal struts at the sensation. This is the most physical contact Sideswipe’s had with his twin in almost three days. He’s desperately missed the familiar thump of Sunstreaker’s fuel pump, the pulse of his spark.

                Sideswipe’d been leaning heavily on Sunstreaker after… well, after everything, and it had been particularly cruel of Prowl to separate them for their punishment. Come to think of it, maybe that’s why their brig time had been so short.

                Nevertheless, if Sunstreaker is about to pound on him for some imagined slight, at least it will be some sort of contact with this brother.

                “Really? You don’t?” Sunstreaker hisses, his grip on Sideswipe’s wrists tightening. Sunstreaker’s other hand falls to Sideswipe’s left hip, fingers slipping under the armor plates there to snag a tension wire and yank. Sideswipe jerks at the small sting.

                “No, Sunstreaker. I really don’t know what this is about,” Sideswipe replies. Sometimes, Sideswipe can bring Sunstreaker out of a rage just by remaining steady, projecting calm. And unless he wants to dislocate a shoulder, there’s not much else he can do but try and talk his twin down.

                Sunstreaker withdraws his fingers from Sideswipe’s hip, sliding them between their bodies and down Sideswipe’s aft. Sunstreaker’s hand slithers between Sideswipe’s spread thighs, ghosting over his interface panel. Sideswipe lets out a shuddering ventilation and swivels his hips, trying to both dislodge the touch and encourage it further.

                They hadn’t interfaced since his return to the Ark, and Sideswipe wants nothing more than to open up his panel and let Sunstreaker in – his fingers, glossa, spike, anything that Sunstreaker would give him.

                But… no matter how many times Sideswipe visits the washracks, no matter how often he scours every inch of himself in cleanser and scalding water… he never feels clean. Not after…

                Sideswipe can’t bear to expose his twin to that.

               And anyway, Sideswipe is getting the feeling that a quick frag isn’t what this is all about.

               “You will,” Sunstreaker chuckles. The laugh is dark and foreboding. “Open up.”

               Sideswipe stills as Sunstreaker presses insistent fingers to the edges of Sideswipe’s panel.

               “Sunny… I don’t… I don’t really want to…” Sideswipe whispers. He reaches across their bond, words not enough to clarify the rejection. But he is rejected in return, Sunstreaker firmly shutting him out. Sideswipe whimpers at the sensation, struggling in his brother’s grip to turn around, look him in the optics and explain.

               “I bet that’s what Ratchet said when you fucked him. Wasn’t it?” Sunstreaker snarls, riding out Sideswipe’s attempts to get away.

               Sideswipe shivers and goes limp at the words, an icy chill suffusing his limbs and creeping inwards to his core. Sunstreaker takes the opportunity to hook his claws beneath the edge of Sideswipe’s interface panel and begin pulling.

               It hurts, and Sideswipe is tempted to send the command to let the cover slide away. But Ratchet never did. Megatron had to pry Ratchet’s cover off, inch by inch. Ratchet had fought every moment until they tied him down so thoroughly all he could do was rail at their captors.

              So Sideswipe doesn’t send the command. He thrashes in Sunstreaker’s grip, spitting curses and choking back cries of pain as his twin finally gets enough of a grip on the panel cover to bend it back and then tear it completely away.

              In the process, they end up on the floor, Sideswipe’s faceplates grinding against the floor until he manages to turn his head. Sunstreaker manages to stay on top, the fragger, no matter how hard Sideswipe bucks and kicks. He’s so distracted by his alarm of his position and the ache between his legs that he doesn’t hear the click until the magnacuffs are around his wrists.

              Sideswipe freezes again as Sunstreaker’s weight settles on the back of Sideswipe’s thighs. He’s pretty stuck now; Sunstreaker’s heat-resistant plating gives him a little more mass than Sideswipe, makes him just a tad bit heavier.

              “Sunny…!” he pleads, panting; his optics dart around in search of escape. For the first time in his life, he’s feeling afraid of his brother.

              It’s not supposed to be like this. Sunstreaker had never once been upset with him after Ratchet. Sideswipe had had no idea this was coming. What had changed?!

              Sunstreaker strokes the curve of Sideswipe’s aft lightly, lovingly. “Tell me no,” he instructs. “Just like Ratchet did.”

              Then he plunges two fingers deep into Sideswipe’s valve and immediately begins scissoring them in the spasming opening. Sideswipe’s pelvis hunch forward, away from the invaders. But with Sunstreaker’s weight atop him and his arms bound behind his back, Sideswipe can’t manage to move far.

              It stings, but it’s bearable; at least he’s not completely dry. It’s almost instinctive to get a little revved up when Sunstreaker throws him up against a wall; it had certainly been a prelude to fun times in the past. Of course this time, things had deviated a little from the norm.

             “No! Stop!” Sideswipe cries as a third finger joins the first two.

             “Yes!” Sunstreaker hisses in satisfaction. “I bet that’s exactly what he said. Wasn’t it?”

             Sunstreaker leans over, slowly pumping three fingers in and out of Sideswipe’s valve. Hot ventilations bathe Sideswipe’s audial and then a glossa traces the curve of Sideswipe’s jaw.

             “You’re tight,” Sunstreaker comments, fingers curling after a shallow thrust and rubbing directly over the nodes beneath the lips of Sideswipe’s valve. It sparks a wave of pleasure that makes Sideswipe’s plating crawl. He doesn’t want this. He _doesn’t_. Not like this.

             “Not going to be tight much longer. Not after I use you up and then dump you in the rec room for everyone else to have a turn,” Sunstreaker rumbles. The fingers slowly drag out of Sideswipe, and he despises the small part of himself that mourns the loss.

             Suddenly something much bigger that Sunstreaker’s fingers push past the rim of Sideswipe’s valve. He yelps at the intrusion, flailing in another attempt to buck his twin off. Sunstreaker merely bears down, smacking a stinging blow across the back of Sideswipe’s helm.

             “Did Ratchet fight like this?” Sunstreaker questions, once more whispering the words against Sideswipe’s cheek. “Oh. wait. He couldn’t. He was tied down. He couldn’t fight back. The only person who could fight for him was _you_. And you gave in. You took him like he was a cheap, two credit whore!”

             “No!” Sideswipe screams, his struggles intensifying even as Sunstreaker starts up a brutally fast pace.

             Sideswipe beats at the blocks at Sunstreaker’s end of their bond, desperate and frightened. This is his twin, his _bondmate_. They always said there was nothing that could make one turn their back on the other. The discomfort in his frame is nothing in comparison to the dreadful ache in his spark at the thought that Sunstreaker was finished with him forever.

             “I didn’t….! He never…!” Sideswipe tries.

             “What? He _asked_ you for it?” Sunstreaker snarls, placing his palms against Sideswipe’s trussed back shoulders and leaning his full weight against them. Sideswipe hears his left shoulder joint creak alarmingly.

             “Yes! No! I mean…!” Sideswipe’s processor stutters, his fuel pump beating so fast it feels like it will leap out of his chest.

             Ripping himself away, Sunstreaker growls wordlessly as he hooks his hands under Sideswipe’s elbow and heaves him to the side. Sideswipe lands awkwardly on his back, his hands clenching uselessly against the air. Sunstreaker is on top of him, spike seated firmly before Sideswipe can use the opportunity to kick him away. His twin stabs into Sideswipe’s valve, Sunstreaker’s ankles hooking over Sideswipe’s shins and anchoring him in place.

             Sunstreaker leans back, his hands darting out to land on Sideswipe’s chassis.

            “’Yes’?” Sunstreaker repeats, optics nearly completely bled of color and lovely face twisted with hatred and disgust.

            “Ratchet asked you for it? Asked you for _this_?” he demands, snapping his hips forward. “What about his spark, huh? He beg you for _this_?” he questions, claws digging into the tiny space of Sideswipe’s central armor seam.

            Sideswipe throws his head back and wails, betrayal cutting an icy path through his lines. He throws himself to the side, scrambling to get away, nearly frantic with fear. His processor bombards him with memories that he had been trying so hard to suppress: Ratchet’s screams of pains, the laughter of the Decepticons, the warmth of Ratchet’s spark amidst the painful clasp of his violated valve.

            He struggles and flails, but a small part of him is actually relieved. Sideswipe’s a little surprised that it’s taken this long for someone to act against him; surely Wheeljack or Optimus mentioned Sideswipe’s part in Ratchet’s torture to the others? It was only a matter of time before something like this happened.

            And then it hits him. Of course. Who else could it be but Sunstreaker? Hadn’t Ratchet trusted them? Hadn’t Ratchet showed him via their merge how much he cared for the twins? In a way, it’s fitting that Sideswipe’s trust is betrayed just as Sideswipe betrayed Ratchet’s.

           In his moment of epiphany, Sideswipe quiets enough for Sunstreaker pry Sideswipe’s chest plating aside. Sunstreaker’s hands dip into Sideswipe’s chest cavity, aiming for his spark next. He grunts in surprise as Sideswipe’s spark casing opens without any assistance.

           Sideswipe’s not a complete idiot; Ratchet’s torturers had had enough medical knowledge to bare Ratchet’s spark without permanent damage. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker both know how to rip through casings to extinguish sparks, but not how to preserve them. And right now, Sideswipe can’t be certain how far his own brother will go.

          “Look at you, you little slut,” Sunstreaker sneers. “I bet Ratchet put up more of a struggle than this. Frag, you’re even getting wet!”

          Sunstreaker circles his hips, his spike lighting up sensors deep inside Sideswipe’s valve, and he feels the truth of his brother’s words. His frame is betraying him too. Again. Just like when his spike managed to pressurize and overload in Ratchet’s valve.

          “He told me to merge,” Sideswipe suddenly says, vocalizer so shaky the words are barely comprehensible. Sunstreaker pauses, his open chestplates a few inches away from Sideswipe’s. Their bared sparks paint the room with a mesmerizing swirl of blue and purple.

          “Liar,” Sunstreaker proclaims, biting off the word with a snap of his denta. “Dirty, filthy traitor!”

          He sinks the rest of the way down, and they moan in near unison as their spark halves eagerly clutch at one another. No matter what vile words spill from their lips, this at least, will never change.

          Sideswipe reflexively cringes as barriers fall away, becoming open to Sunstreaker and vice versa. He expects to drown in his twin’s disgust and hatred.

          And he does drown. But it’s not in loathing. It’s in pure, all encompassing love.

 _Wha…?_ Sideswipe whispers, overwhelmed as the blocks on their bond also dissipate.

 _You idiot,_ Sunstreaker says with no little heat. _I was_ there _. I’ve been in your memories. Ratchet never once told you no. He went so deep into the spark merge that even_ I _could feel him halfway across the country. He kept telling you he loved you and was grateful that you were there to protect him._

         Sideswipe flinches and tries to draw back, but Sunstreaker holds firm.

 _You_ protected _him._

 _I betrayed him!_ Sideswipe shouts back, twisting in Sunstreaker’s grip.

_You kept him safe! You gave us enough time to get there. How many more ‘cons would have had a go at him if you hadn’t? You gave him love when everyone else gave him hate!_

         Sideswipe feels like his entire being shatters. He screams, back bowing, as Sunstreaker takes Sideswipe’s own memories and ruthlessly strips them bare, shoving asides Sideswipe’s guilt and remorse to leave Ratchet’s love, affection, and gratitude swirling in the forefront.

         Dimly, Sideswipe hears Sunstreaker murmuring soothing nonsense into Sideswipe’s audial and feels the shift as Sunstreaker begins to withdraw from Sideswipe’s frame.

         “No!” Sideswipe cries out, freed legs rising to curl around his twin’s waist. “Don’t leave me!”

 _I will never leave you,_ Sunstreaker replies, his spark tenderly pulsing against Sideswipe’s. _I will never turn my back on you; nothing will change that._

 _You blocked me out,_ Sideswipe whimpers, recalling the chilling terror at the thought that he had lost his twin forever.

 _You kept telling yourself that if someone hurt you like you hurt him, it would make the guilt go away, make you feel better. Shut up, I know you were,_ Sunstreaker says overriding Sideswipe’s meek protest.

 _But it didn’t, did it? Ratchet and I have already forgiven you; but it doesn’t matter until you can forgive yourself. Can_ see _,_ Sunstreaker says, pushing Ratchet’s remembered emotions at Sideswipe again.

        Sideswipe reflexively clutches the data close, tucking the warm sensations alongside his other most precious memories as exhaustion washes over him.

 _Who are you?_ Sideswipe asks wearily. _When did you suddenly become all wise and knowing?_

 _No one knows you better than me,_ Sunstreaker replies simply. He nuzzles Sideswipe’s cheek, ghosts his lipplates over Sideswipe’s.

        Sideswipe exvents unsteadily, his spark beginning to quiet, meshing even more firmly with Sunstreaker’s. He doesn’t think he will ever forget the disgust in Sunstreaker’s voice, the coldness in his optics. Sideswipe keeps surging forward, probing, but despite the (scarily convincing) act, he cannot find a hint of anything but love and acceptance in Sunstreaker. His twin remains wide open and quiescent, allowing the almost frantic searches.

 _I don’t understand how he can forgive me,_ Sideswipe finally admits, recalling Ratchet’s words in the brig.

        Sunstreaker shrugs, the motion jostling his softening spike. Sideswipe’s thighs twitch, and his knees tighten against Sunstreaker’s waist.

        “Can we?” Sideswipe whispers, his optic shutters half lidded as he peeks through them up at his twin. He’s still dazed and shaken, desperate to connect with Sunstreaker in every way that they can.

        “Are you sure?” Sunstreaker asks, and Sideswipe experiences the first shades of doubt from his brother. Remorse follows too, as Sunstreaker fleetingly recalls the torn off interface cover and cracked open chest plates.

        “We’ve done worse to one another,” Sideswipe replies, fondly remembering the few times they had disagreed so badly they had ended up in the MedBay after an argument.

        “Not like this,” Sunstreaker says, averting his gaze.

        Sideswipe cranes his neck upwards, thudding his forehelm against his brother’s.

        “Someone once showed me that protecting someone else can look a lot like the opposite,” he said, quirking the side of his mouth in an attempt at a grin. He doesn’t even  have to think about it; he’s already forgiven his brother.

         For a long moment, Sunstreaker is silent. Then he nods, accepting the soft pulses of Sideswipe’s spark.

         “Sounds like someone pretty smart,” Sunstreaker replies, optics finally meeting Sideswipe’s. “Let me get the cuffs off.”

         “Leave ‘em,” Sideswipe says, arching his lower back to drive himself further onto Sunstreaker’s spike. It was beginning to repressurize, gently brushing over pleasure nodes in a teasing manner. “I kinda like them.”

         He grins up at Sunstreaker cheekily. Inwardly however, he is abraded raw, processor still spinning. He can see Sunstreaker’s point in all this, but he knows that it will still take a long time before he ever truly, fully forgives himself.

         “You would,” Sunstreaker says fondly, hips moving in little circles. He drops his head back down to capture Sideswipe’s lips in a soft kiss, arms sliding under Sideswipe’s shoulders to ease some of the pressure off sore joints.

 _I hear that creators are pretty forgiving of their creations,_ Sunstreaker says, picking up the earlier thread of conversation. _Comes with the territory._

 _He’s not our creator,_ Sideswipe murmurs back, ventilations stuttering as a hard thrust sends a thrill of pleasure shooting across his sensor net. This, at least is easy, familiar. He’s kicking himself for not trusting in his brother earlier, confiding in Sunstreaker. But talking has never been their strong suit.

_Closest thing we got._

_Can we not talk about creators right this second?_ Sideswipe asks waspishly, brushing aside the sick feeling that arises when he thinks of creators and interfacing in the same sentence.

 _I can do that,_ Sunstreaker returns amicably and pulses a hard throb of pleasure straight into Sideswipe’s spark, obliterating all other thoughts.

        For now, at least.

 


End file.
